


A Picture Speaks a Thousand Words

by AFanofReading



Category: Mary Russell - Laurie R. King, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes - fandom, laurie r king, mary russell - Fandom, mary russell holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:35:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFanofReading/pseuds/AFanofReading
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scene from Locked Rooms in the Mary Russell Holmes novels where Holmes' shows Hammett the photo of Mary he keeps in his wallet. Where did Holmes get the picture of Russell from? When did he get it? Did he take it? Well, lets read my AU and find out how this picture of a young woman, clearly unaware of the camera had her picture taken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Picture Speaks a Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> This was made before I asked Mary Russell's Twitter about who took the photo of Russell in Holmes' wallet, because in my opinion, he wouldn't be reluctant to show anyone the photo if someone else took it. But if he took the photo himself he might be a bit more reluctant to show it off. It might have been a private moment. sooooo..... yea, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Tweet I asked:  
> sherlockian: The picture of you Mr. Holmes has in his (watch? Wallet?) did he say he took it? And if he did, is he a fan of photography?  
> Response: The photograph in Holmes' wallet was taken by someone else. Holmes uses the photography to record evidence, not as an avocation.

It was a sunny day in spring, when Holmes and I decided to take tea on the terrace. It was unusually warm and I thought that it would be a good idea to take a walk, so I looked over to see Holmes leaned back, eyes shut, and balancing his tea on his knee, relaxing. I opened my mouth and asked, “Would you care to join me for a walk down to the beach?”

  
“Oh that sounds lovely”, he smiled and then added, “Let me go grab my camera though, todays light is perfect for taking pictures.” He took his tea off his knee and jumped up, quickly for a man with rheumatoid and speedily walked into the cottage in search of his camera.

  
Holmes walked back out of the cottage, dressed in a pair on tan trousers suitable for a walk across the downs, a white button up shirt with waist coat, and his boots as well as his camera bag on his side. I already was wearing my boots, a pair of sturdy trousers, and a forest green blouse. As we started walking across the downs I noticed how Holmes rummaged through his bag as he walked. When he managed to get his camera that he must have preloaded with film, he put the camera strap around his neck and looked around for something to catch his eye.

  
“So”, I started, “anything you’re hoping to photograph today Holmes?”

  
He turned his head towards me and with a small smile he looked at his feet before answering, “Yes, I am looking for the perfect shot of the most beautiful creature I ever laid my eyes upon.”

  
I thought for a second before I noticed what he was saying and blushed, “Why are you being so sentimental today? It’s very unusual of you.”

  
“You don’t like me being sentimental, while we walk on the downs alone, on a lovely day? Fine, I shall not make this a habit”, he joked, and we both chuckled.

  
“I suppose being sentimental every once in a while is nice”, I responded as we reached the chalk cliffs next to the sea.

  
We both sat at the edge of the cliffs, feet out in front of us towards the sea and leaning on our elbows. After a couple of minutes watching the water from our perch I decided to speak.

  
“So, how would you like your perfect shot of this beautiful creature”, I asked, leaning my head on Holmes shoulder because of the pure moment of peace.

  
“I think I would like a natural looking shot, almost like you have no idea I am here,” as he said this I got up moved a bit away, and sat criss crossed ready to be his model. As I did this he got the idea of what was going on and directed me ahead, “ok, now I need you to put your head up a bit”, as I did this he started to smirk and his grey eyes started to look for what else he wanted to have, “Now, put your chin up a bit, ok, stretch your neck a bit more. Perfect!” I imagined I looked a bit like a shop window dummy as I looked away from the camera and then I noticed my glasses and moved to take them off to help not obscure the image, but as I reached for them he gently grabbed by wrist, “No, don’t remove them.”

  
I gently smiled back at him and moved to my previous pose. I looked forward till I heard the familiar click of the camera, and held as still as possible for a few seconds before Holmes said, “I think the frame should be ok, the exposer time is about five seconds.”

  
As we walked back to the cottage I could smell dinner, and when we got to the cottage Holmes disappeared towards his darkroom. I walked into the kitchen to see Mrs. Hudson pulling out some very fragrant food from the oven.

  
“Hello Mary”, Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully, “How was your walk?”

  
“It was refreshing”, I told her.

  
“Yes, I saw Mr. Holmes taking his camera upstairs. Will he be dining tonight with you”, she asked.

  
“Probably not, you know how he is when he sets his mind to something”, I said thinking about all of Mrs. Hudson’s cooking going to waste with just the two of us eating it instead of the intended three.  
As I was about to tell Mrs. Hudson my thoughts, Holmes walked in and commented, “The food smells delicious!”

  
As we sat down to eat dinner, everything went smoothly. Talk was exchanged and so was good humor, and after dinner Mrs. Hudson retired for bed, leaving Holmes and I alone upstairs where we drank some of Holmes’ Honey Wine in front of the fire. After a glass and a half I drifted off to sleep.

  
I was woken up by Holmes in the wee hour of the morning to be brought up to bed, as I stumbled up the stairs to our room I didn’t bother getting dressed into my night clothes. And in the morning I was woken up my Holmes again, and it seemed that he had not slept all night and was in fact going to bed now.

  
“Holmes”, I asked.

  
“Yes Russell”, he said groggily.

  
“Are you just getting to sleep”, I asked blinking in the dim light of the room where I saw his foggy outline.

  
“No”, he responded, “I was sleeping in the darkroom all night, it wasn’t my best idea.”

  
“I could have told you that”, I joked and motioned for him to walk over, where he sat next to me.

  
He rested his head in the crook of my neck and complained, “My neck hurts, and so do my joints.”

  
“Yes, I imagine so. Sleeping on a table top probably doesn’t help your rheumatoid much”, I started rubbing the back of his neck as I said this.

  
“Now you’re going all sentimental on me Russell”, Holmes joked and smiled into my neck and added, “Must be contagious.”

  
“If I can’t be sentimental with my husband in our bed where can I be”, I asked and stopped rubbing his neck.

  
“Russell”, Holmes started to say when he looked up towards me. It was then I noticed what he had in his hands, it was a photograph.

  
“Is it safe to turn on a light with that photo”, I asked interrupting his sentence.

  
It was the first time he seemed to notice he had a photo in his hands, “Yes, it should be. I haven’t seen it myself yet though, so I don’t know how well it turned out.”

  
I moved towards the nightstand to turn on the lamp and then I moved back to Holmes. I looked down and I saw the photo of myself. It wasn’t remarkable, only an image of me looking away, unaware of a camera, my chin up and my neck extended. The light was, as Holmes said, perfect for photos. So perfect that my glasses didn’t ruin the image at all, I could see my lightly colored eyes. My hair was pulled back, gathered on my head in what I thought a classic fashion.

  
“I don’t think it’s the perfect image you were looking for”, I told Holmes. But when I looked over all I saw was a look of wonder on Holmes’ face. He looked at the image like it was a sacred and holy image of a goddess. And when he finally calculated what I said he gave me a look that only showed what I could describe as pain.

  
“Russell”, he started, “This image shows the most beautiful, intelligent, and heroic scholar I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

  
After he said this I became uncharacteristically full of emotion and careful as to not crush the photograph he just developed, hurled myself at Holmes, crushing my lips to his in an effort to show how much I really did love him.

  
How could this legend such as Sherlock Holmes, the former reclusive bachelor, and persnickety detective show such passion and love through such a little thing as a photograph?


End file.
